More Than Clowns
by Tricki
Summary: You couldn’t just have sex with your best friend without it meaning anything. He should’ve known that; and now he’d ruined everything." Can Lynley & Havers' friendship be repaired after they spend the night together, and do they want it to be?


Well, it was one am and El Muso finally returned to me with this story. She also didn't let me go to sleep until I'd finished it {cow :P}. So here it is! The first thing I've actually managed to finish in Lurline knows how long. I hope you enjoy, please R&R!

Many thanks to my beautiful beta, Becs - who I honestly WILL get into ILM if it kills me. And yes, there will be marathons with Penguins. Watch this space :P

Disclaimer: I don't own them. If I did... well... let's not go there heheh.

Raiting: PG

Summary: Can Lynley and Havers' relationship be repaired after they spend an ill-thought-out night together - and do they really want to go back to the way things were before?

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_Tell her not to go  
I just got scared that's all  
Tell her something in my mind freezes up from time to time_

_~"Tell Her This", Del Amitri_

"I suppose I just never expected you to think of this as anything serious."

Those were theexact words he'd uttered. Regret didn't even begin to cover what he felt at having said them now. It was a panic reaction as much as anything. Yes, he had slept with his partner, had done so three times in fact, had quite enjoyed it; that didn't necessarily have to mean anything, did it?

_Good god, man; how foolish can you be? _He internally chided himself as he pondered the mess he was in.

You couldn't just have sex with your best friend without it meaning anything. He should've known that; and now he'd ruined everything.

The problem wasn't so much that he'd tried to have his cake and eat it too **-** to have just the friendship and the sex with nothing more - it was that he'd , as Havers would have called it, slipped back into the fop – the persona that she so despised, she could barely stand to work with him in the beginning.

He had run from it, cheapened it (whatever exactly _it_ was) out of fear.

But what was it? Neither of them had been completely sober when it happened, but the thought had certainly crossed his mind when he was. How could it not? She was the only person who put up with him, despite seeing him at his absolute worst. It was no exaggeration to say she knew him better than anyone else ever had – he did spend almost every waking hour with her for the best part of a decade. It wasn't really surprising that the idea of them becoming romantically involved had crossed his mind – it was probably the only way humanly known that they could be any closer than they were.

That said, he'd been a complete arse to her since Helen had died. He'd taken her for granted at every turn, and then.... _Oh god..._

He used to think himself such an honourable man, and now – well now he was brooding because he'd slept with his partner, dismissed the encounter, and either made her furious with him or hurt her badly by doing so.

But how did he feel about her? He obviously cared for her, very deeply in fact. There was clearly some part of him that wanted her – wanted her a lot, if last night was anything to go by.

In a split second he was on his feet, collecting his coat as he stood. Of course he wanted her – he _needed _her. He'd hurt the woman he loved... He froze, struck with a moment of blinding realisation. He loved her. He was in love with his partner, and he fully intended to tell her so.

*********

After tearing about the city for what felt like an aeon, he found her. Today he'd bashed on her door for a good five minutes before he remembered what she'd said when she left his house that morning: "Don't call me, I'll be out." He'd checked the Yard for her, and wandered aimlessly until he'd recalled where she went when she needed to be alone – when she needed to be away from him. This lightening-bolt-revelation had led him into St Paul's Cathedral.

She was sitting pensively in one of the marble cut-outs in the wall, slumped in defeat.

"You'll have to stop coming here to sulk. You'll scare the tourists." He said, striding up to her casually – as a defence mechanism he'd slipped back into their old, banter-filled conversation pattern. Unfortunately, rather than placate her, his catlike stride and casual conversation angered her even further. What right did he have to not be cringing with his tail between his legs? Anyone else would have been...

"And how exactly would that affect you?" She asked darkly.

"Well, without the tourists the economy'll crash, won't it? Then where will I be?" The shockingly beautiful and effortless half smile that graced his lips did nothing to enhance her mood.

"Luckily for you, your Lordship," she added the formal title bitterly, "When the economy does crash the crime rate'll go up. Problem solved."

"Ah, but then I'll have to work more, and I'll have no time left over to spend with my favourite Sergeant." His answer was silky smooth – sickeningly so, she thought – as he sat beside her in the marble archway. Her muscles tensed slightly at his proximity and her glare deepened.

"And here was I thinking that we work together."

"Well we do, when you don't storm off to scare the tourists." He said it in such an assured, 'well-now-that-my-point-is-made' tone that she thought she might actually have breathed fire.

Through gritted teeth she managed to force out the words "You're disturbing my peace."

With a wicked smile gracing his lips he replied "Arrest me, then." His breath tickled and warmed her ear and cheek in a way that usually would have made her putty in his hands, but instead made her lips press into an even tighter line.

"Barbara..." He sighed, his charm slipping at her lack of response. He attempted to brush her hair back behind her ear, but she shied from his touch. "I wish you'd talk to me."

"What is there to say? I think you've made my position perfectly clear."

Once again he sighed her name, and was shocked when it caused her to stand up and round on him. She looked furious.

"No! Alright? You don't get to 'Barbara' me now! You don't get to use me and then throw me away like a... a... a disposable razor and then pretend everything's normal!" Angrily she swiped at tears that had finally escaped, and stormed out of the cathedral.

He gave chase, following her down the street, ducking and weaving between people. "Barbara! Barbara!" He called as he ran after her.

"Oh my god, did you not hear me in there, or are you just thick?" She snarled, not even pausing.

"Havers, for god's sake stop and listen to me!" He shouted, at this point beginning to close the distance between them.

"Why should I?!" She bellowed, finally rounding on him. "So you can sweet talk me back into your bed and then put me out with the rubbish? Well I've got a newsflash for you, _Inspector_, it won't happen again!"

"Barbara that's not – "

"Not what? Not what last night was to you? Because I think you've made it _perfectly _clear what last night meant to you." She sounded dangerous.

"I was – "

"Oh, now is not the time to backpedal! Don't you dare tell me you were wrong."

"Will you ever let me finish a sentence? I'm trying to tell you I'm in love with you and you won't even let me speak long enough to get it out!" At that sentence, both their mouths fell agape. He'd told her. That wasn't how he meant to do it at all. He hadn't meant to blurt it out in anger. Havers couldn't have been less prepared for anything. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to decide what to say, ending up with only:

"You what...?"

"I love you." He whispered, closing the gap between them a little more so that she was within arm's reach. Her heart wrenched; she wanted him to be telling the truth, but after his speech this morning, she didn't think he was.

Her lip trembled. "I – I don't believe you." Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She turned from him and began to walk away again.

"Barbara, don't go." He pleaded. "I was stupid this morning. I was scared. I do stupid things when I'm not in control." She didn't stop, though, and he hadn't moved.

Havers kept walking away from him, consciously ignoring his words – or at least trying to and failing. Lynley took the hint, she wasn't going to stop and he couldn't let her get away again. Eventually he managed to catch her wrist in his hand.

"Please let me talk?" He begged.

"I don't think I have any say in whether or not you talk, only if I listen." She remarked pointedly. He internally rolled his eyes.

"Alright, you have a point." He conceded, his voice carefully modulated. "Hear me out?" Havers sighed, resigned. At this point the least painful course of action was to listen to him and then tell him to bugger off rather than continuing this ridiculous chase.

"Fine." Once he had her permission to speak, he realised he didn't actually know what he was going to say.

"I'm ready for this, Barbara." She looked up from the pavement to meet his eyes, scoffing derisively.

"No you're not. You don't know what it means to love me. I _know_ what being in love with you is. I've known it for years, okay? I know that it means completely putting myself aside and doing what's best for you. I know that it means a triple shot espresso in the morning on a big case or you're grumpy all week, I know that it means I invariably get the absolute worst in you because you know I'm here to stay. So don't tell me you're ready; you don't even know what you mean. And I know that if we walked into the Yard together as something other than friends, you'd go to pieces and be Tommy-The-Fop again, and I'd just have to deal. I know I wouldn't fit in your bloody circle, and that your mother would hate me if we were together, and that I'd probably end up sobbing on your sister's shoulder when you disappeared back into oblivion again. I know the worst in you better than most people know the best. So don't tell me you're ready. You don't even really want this. You said this morning was about fear? _This,_ right now is about fear, because you know that regardless of loving me or not, you need me."

He was completely at a loss for words. How badly and how often must he have let her down over the entire friendship for her to say these things? All he could muster as a response was: "You love me?"

She laughed sadly, her eyes shimmering slightly with unshed tears. "Do you really think I would've put up with you for the last fifteen months if I didn't?" She watched the gears in his brain turn before adding, "You know it wouldn't work between us."

Lynley was shocked – something had gone horribly wrong with all this. She'd said exactly what he wanted her to – admittedly in the middle of a lot of things he didn't want to be true – and yet here he stood on Cannon Street, feeling like he was losing her for good.

"So where does this leave us?" His question was soft, genuinely curious. "We're in love with each other but can't be together? Is that what you're saying?"

"We wouldn't be the first." The pain in her eyes was heart-wrenching, and the defeat in her voice was almost enough to make him cry. Before he could say anything more she popped up onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I uh... I'm going to request a new partner in the morning. I'll see you around." She walked from him slowly, as if she'd been physically wounded by the encounter. He, on the other hand, stood his ground.

"You know, I completely refuse to accept that." He called after her, a newfound confidence in his voice which made her stop dead.

"I love you – I might not have known it as long as you, but I love you. I've been completely insufferable to you for the last fifteen months, and yet here you are. That's real, Barbara. Real love is far too rare and far too precious to let go because being together is difficult." It was now that he began to approach her again, slowly and quietly so that she didn't panic and bolt again.

"Admittedly I don't know how difficult being together is going to be, but I know that not being with you... well the idea of not having you in my life frightens me so much I'm not even willing to think about it." He was standing close behind her now, and settled his hands lightly on her upper arms, whispering in her ear: "Can we at least try, Barbara? Don't we owe ourselves that much?"

He could feel her tense muscles relaxing a little, and hoped that meant she was coming around to see his point of view. "And as for work, I really don't care who knows. I'd shout it from the top of the Cathedral if it'd make you happy." She smiled, turned around, and wrapped her arms around him. He felt her smile against his chest.

"Don't you dare. You know I hate heights."

"Does this mean you're willing to give this a chance?" He asked, feeling elated just at the prospect. She pulled back, her eyes were still watery but there was a peaceful smile on her lips.

"Yes." She nodded.

"Thank you. I promise you won't regret this." A rush of relief flooded over him as he pulled her back into his arms and held her tightly. In a moment of inspiration he lifted her chin and captured her lips with his, trying to commit every detail of the kiss to memory. She was his, and she loved him. He felt as if wings were going to sprout from his heels.

He collected her hand in his and they began to walk together.

"So, how do you feel about dinner? I was thinking perhaps something dial in."

"I've no objections to that." She smirked. "And about last night?"

"Mmm." He winced slightly, bracing himself for the worst.

A wicked smile pulled at her lips. "How would you feel about a repeat performance?"

He grinned widely and kissed the side of her head. "Very good indeed."

He didn't care how difficult it was, it would work - he would make sure of it.

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Please R&R! I've had writers' block for so long, I really could use the feedback.


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